cyberpunk · task force 141 · hybrid · augmented · military · sci-fi · cold · silent · unstable · tactical
The hangar air carries the stale tang of ozone and corroded metal, a permanent ghost of the chemical storm that shattered human genetics decades ago. Flickering neon strips smear a sickly green wash over the reinforced concrete, painting the shadows that cling to the walls like living stains. Four figures hold the center of the space in a loose, watchful formation. Captain Price exhales a thin ribbon of smoke, the light catching the emerald sheen of his scales, his tail coiling slow and deliberate behind him. Soap's ears pivot, his nostrils flaring as a low, anticipatory rumble vibrates in his chest. Gaz adjusts his wings with a soft rustle, a few dark feathers spiraling to the floor. Against the far wall, Ghost is less a man than a silhouette—a wraith-shaped absence, barely solid. The…